


Fragile Bird

by Pixiestick_cc



Series: If You're Lonely Press Play Universe [8]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: F/M, Family, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiestick_cc/pseuds/Pixiestick_cc
Summary: Beatrice adored being a witch, but also knew the dangers that came with it. Therefore when Eislyn developed an interest, she’d tried to dissuade her.
Relationships: Beatrice/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Series: If You're Lonely Press Play Universe [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/252337
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	Fragile Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Theboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboo/gifts).



> I was hoping to have this up by Christmas as a gift, but couldn't think of what to write. I was also hoping to write something from Wirt's POV bc Beatrice got so many chapters at the end of the last fic, but this is the story that came to me.
> 
> Anyway ... this is a present for Theboo who wanted a slice of life fic for Wirt and Beatrice's little family, but this is also a gift for any of you who supported me through the slog that 'A Perfect Sonnet' was. Thanks!

Eislyn was a summer baby and it showed. 

Whenever able, she would escape into the forest, running barefoot through the trees, calling out to the birds who would laugh at her attempts to talk to them. That’s what she would tell her mother anyway. “Hello! I’m here! Say something!” Beatrice once found her daughter yelling up to the treetops. “A real witch talks to birds. Why can’t I?”

“Not all witches,” she would remind her. “And not you either. Witchcraft takes practice and you’re not ready yet.”

Beatrice never regretted learning magic. It was her livelihood, helping support her little family. Wirt’s job was more favor from her parents than anything else. He wasn’t good at hard labor and while he could manage the books- keeping track of the mill’s financial concerns- his heart was in actually writing books, not adding and subtracting numbers in them. And like most art, his poetry earned him not a single coin. At least not yet. So Beatrice used her knowledge to concoct potions for simple ailments. She offered up spells to help those who knew a witch lived near the garden wall and would seek her out. She adored being a witch, but also knew the dangers that came with it. Therefore when Eislyn developed an interest, she’d tried to dissuade her. But really what did she expect? The girl had grown up surrounded by her mother’s magic. Beatrice could blame no one but herself.

Wirt attempted to intervene one day after they found Eislyn alone in the forest. Only three and a half years old, she’d managed to surround herself in an intricate circle made up of every flower imaginable. Most pulled from her father’s garden. “Linnie, I’m worried about you. You shouldn’t be running off alone trying to do spells.” 

“Birds like flowers. I thought they’d come,” she pouted after Wirt sat on the ground beside her, inside (as Eislyn explained it) the circle of the magical bird caller.

Wirt sent Beatrice a look as she set Charlie down and joined them in Eislyn’s circle. At first, it seemed like an accusation, but after a moment spent caught in his gaze, she saw a longing shining in his eyes. A memory stirring behind his irises. “She definitely takes after you. Stubborn through and through.” He chuckled. “She won’t give up. You might as well teach her the basics to keep her from trying magic on her own.”

Beatrice’s voice caught in her throat over his unexpected suggestion. Biding her time, she prevented a peony from entering Charlie’s mouth, who began crying over his lost snack. “You’ve always been wary of magic, why the change of heart?” she finally responded, patting her son's back.

“My heart changed a long time ago.” He reached out and placed a daisy behind her ear. Their wedding flower. It fell a moment later. Charlie instantly grasped it and this time Beatrice let him eat his flowery meal.

While Wirt had been nothing but supportive since their ordeal with his demonic counterpart, it was still shocking to see him so willing for Eislyn to walk in her footsteps. “It would seem,” Beatrice slowly replied. “That our roles have reversed. I’ve become the one wary of magic, but you’ve accepted it.”

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? If we support her, she’ll never have to know pain like the kind we went through.” 

The forest seemed to grow quiet as the memory of their suffering tried to tear into her mind. Like an old enemy she’d thwarted who annoyingly liked to come calling unannounced once in a while. There was a struggle written on Wirt’s face too until a bird flew overhead and Eislyn yelled out to it, helping scatter their unwanted painful trip into the past. “Okay,” Beatrice said, giving her shoulders a little shake. “But I’ll only do it if you’re fully involved this time.”

“Me? But I-I don’t know how-” he began to protest. She silenced him with a severely arched eyebrow. “Fine,” Wirt sighed, “guess we’re both gonna learn magic, Linnie,” he told his daughter.

“Really?!” she gushed. “And I’ll get to talk to birds? Maybe even be a bird?”

Out of all things magical, this seemed to be first and foremost on Eislyn’s mind, and Beatrice had a passing thought that her daughter had somehow inherited this bird nonsense while in the womb. It wasn’t as if Beatrice sought birds out to chat with all that much, maybe a handful of times since becoming a mother. Charlie the bluebird had been her only friend of the feathery kind. Eislyn had never known him. And somehow, it was all her daughter wanted. To be like a bird. The irony was almost too on the nose to be real. For a whole year, her only goal had been to shed the birdly form she’d been cursed with and now it was the one thing Eislyn desired most. “Human to animal transformations aren’t done lightly, Eislyn. And I cannot teach you that until you’re much older.”

“Like four?” she asked, her voice so serious, Beatrice couldn’t keep a soft giggle from escaping. Eislyn glowered at her mother’s flippant dismissal.

“No, Linnie. More like ten,” Wirt answered for her.

Beatrice wasn’t sure ten was even old enough, but she nodded in agreement. At the very least, it would give her seven years of stalling. “Yes, ten is a decent age for a witch to learn the transformation spell.”

“You called me a witch!” Eislyn exclaimed jumping to her feet.

“A witch in training,” Beatrice corrected, feeling a lump growing in her throat followed by the corner of her eyes prickling. Eislyn was like a fragile bird. She couldn't imagine letting her fly free to practice witchcraft. And it dawned on her then that she must be experiencing the same wariness her own mother had not so long ago. Suddenly, Beatrice felt sorry for all she’d ever put the old woman through. It had taken twenty-six years and two children for her to conclude that no matter what she did in life, inevitably she would turn into some version of her mother. The thought made her feel warm and cold all at once. 

“Are you okay?” Wirt asked, making Beatrice realize she must’ve had a look of discomfort on her face. 

She responded with a vague, “Just feeling my age,” before scooping Charlie up in her arms and standing alongside Eislyn. “Now come on, let’s get back home.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea because _someone_ needs to help me plant a new garden,” Wirt said, getting to his feet as well. If it were Beatrice’s flowers she would’ve been more upset over all her hard work being destroyed. Not Wirt. It would take something far more serious for him to discipline Eislyn. He was an endless river of kindness when it came to his children. Beatrice could only hope to be as patient as he was. 

“Can I use magic when I plant new flowers?” Eislyn asked as Wirt hoisted her onto his shoulders (about the only hard labor he ever did). Beatrice opened her mouth to nix that idea, but Wirt spoke before she could.

“Well, Mommy wants us both to learn magic, so maybe we could plant a new garden using our magic together.” He tickled the underside of her bare feet and she giggled.

“Does that mean you’re gonna be a Daddy witch now?”

Both she and Wirt laughed at Eislyn’s innocent question and for the next few days afterward, Beatrice made sure to tease her husband by calling him this whenever the opportunity arose.


End file.
